


Hate Is A Strong Word (But I Really, Really, Really Don't Like You)

by Mettaton_Ex



Series: The Asshole!John AU [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Asshole!John, Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2235273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mettaton_Ex/pseuds/Mettaton_Ex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loving him is tough. </p><p>Especially when he is so close, yet so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate Is A Strong Word (But I Really, Really, Really Don't Like You)

Heat curled off of your skin and mouths pressed together as he slipped a hand up your shirt and touched your flushed, freckled skin, goosebumps rising in it’s wake. It was risky, what you were doing. Especially since to everyone else, you were just best friends. Of course, you were best friends. Best friends plus a little more.  
  
You weren’t sure when this started, this...thing, you had together. It could have been when you met him, all those years ago, when his hand grazed yours and your stomach flipped in sixth grade, or maybe it was when you jacked each other off in the darkness of your room in tenth grade. That was two years ago, and now you were about to go into College.  
  
In a way you think you always loved him. But the longer it took for you to admit that to him, that this wasn’t just a taboo, exciting experience for you as it was for him, the more difficult it would be to repair your already fucked up relationship.  
  
And now here you were, your room unlike those few years ago when you first touched him in his, panting into his mouth and feeling his desire for you press into your hip. That’s all it was. Desire. There was no feeling in his touch, just hormonal, desperation filled desire. He could get any girl he wanted… he was beautiful, with long, dark eyelashes, tanned skin and blue eyes too bright to be natural, even though they were. Even his dumb, bucktoothed grin was beautiful. But maybe you were just biased.  
  
So why did he stay with you? He had a girlfriend, once, but for some reason, some inexplicable reason, she wasn’t around anymore.  
  
You entertained the thought that it was because he loved you. That way, it made all of this more bearable.  
  
He pulled you off of where he had you pinned against your wall, walking backwards until the back of his knees hit your bed, and he fell back onto the bed, bringing you down with him. There was the moment where you just looked at each other, and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something.

_I love you._

But nothing came out. He merely pulled your head down to kiss you again, beginning to undo your pants blindly and deftly. After so much practice, he could do it in a few seconds.  
  
It wasn’t always like this. When you were only sixteen and you first kissed each other, he was nervous, his hands shaking so much he couldn’t undo your pants. In the end you did it for the both of you, kissing desperately and pumping your dicks together and feeling the two of you climax at almost the exact same moment. You knew you loved him far before that point, but when he told you that it was no homo, it made you hate him a little bit. It was strange how you could love someone so painfully, but hate them with such intensity. You decided that was what unrequitedness felt like. And it fucking sucked.

He got your pants undone and you did the same for him, breaking the kiss to slide down his body and take him into your mouth.

_I hate you._

You focused on the noises he was making, and lost yourself in the idea of pleasuring him, and touching yourself.

_I love you and I hate you._

It hurt, knowing that although you would be going to the name college, he’d probably find a girl, fall in love, and leave you. Leave you alone in the dust, still caught up in your irrefutable feelings for him. You fucking hated him.

He gasped out your name as he came, and you swallowed it all, pulling off of him and pumping yourself for a moment or so longer before following after him, dirtying your hand. You stood, and reached over to your bedside table to clean yourself off, and out of the corner of your eye could feel him watching you. You turned and gave him a half smile- you hoped it masked how inexplicably hurt you were- and you tucked yourself back in, sitting on the bed next to him and sucking on your teeth a little. You could taste him on your tongue, still. He tucked himself back in, sitting up after a moment in the dazed afterglow, and he rubbed his hand in a circle over the small of your back, feeling electricity shoot up your spine. If only he knew how you felt. You heard his voice crack with the recess of puberty (though it didn’t make his voice any less beautiful. Especially when he sang. You had to remind him to sing for you, again) as he spoke, sounding out an ‘I’, before breaking off abruptly, and twitching his mouth into a small smile. He kissed the crown of your head and flopped back onto the bed, pulling you down with him into a cuddle in a rare moment of post coital affection.

It was moments like this that made it a little better. Though it hurt, the pain was more of a dull ebbing than the vivid pain you got when he told you that it was ‘nothing’.  
You wondered why it ended up like this.

_I love you._


End file.
